


A Remedy For Rumination

by MellifluousMelitele



Series: Other Medicine [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Dirty Talk, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Open Relationships, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Regis is a talker in bed. Obviously. OBVIOUSLY., Smut, smol sad bat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23992549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellifluousMelitele/pseuds/MellifluousMelitele
Summary: "People don't think about the present. They usually remember old times or worry about the future."Immediately post Blood and Wine. Geralt and Regis share a drink, a few words, and a friendly hand. Regis worries, Geralt helps. Utterly shameless smut.This fic assumes the “happy” ending of Blood and Wine. Contains spoilers.
Relationships: Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Other Medicine [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730095
Comments: 15
Kudos: 139





	A Remedy For Rumination

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [A Remedy For Rumination](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24788920) by [icelantern_OWL](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icelantern_OWL/pseuds/icelantern_OWL)



> I finished my Witcher 3 replay and couldn’t get Regis out of my head. This is my first attempt at publishing a fic - constructive criticism is always welcome. 
> 
> Beta'd by my incredibly supportive bf who not only edited my gay vampire porn, but did so without roasting me too badly. Thanks babe, love you.

...............

_"This moonlight makes me oh so dreamy.”_

_“Penny for your thoughts. Lemme guess - succubus tits?”_

_“No, I was thinking about… oh, how anything can look interesting when properly lit.”_

_“Even an old necrophage corpse?”_

_“You’ve not an ounce of refinement in you, have you?”_

...............

Regis and Geralt were still drinking by the fire, the moon long past its zenith. The night was alive with cricket-song and the crackle of burning logs.

Regis's thoughts were drifting, as much as he tried to focus on the present moment. He couldn't help dwelling on what the next few months would bring. What would he do once he got to Nilfgaard? Find a secluded hut in the countryside, maybe? Or somewhere busier, a city, where there were more people to hide amongst? _I could set up an apothecary. Run a shop. How_ human _that would be._ He smiled, but it faded as soon as it appeared.

Would settling down be safe? Even in the south, staying in one place for too long might attract the wrong kind of attention. What if he was found out? What if people got hurt? Might be wiser to keep moving, resume his career as an itinerant barber-surgeon. Travelling from village to village, town to town. Keeping his own company.

As Regis ruminated, darker thoughts wormed their way into his mind.

Thoughts of an endless, lonely lifetime on the road. Trapped forever in a world that was fundamentally alien, unwelcoming, cruel. On the run from his own kind. Shunned by all who knew his true nature.

The thoughts came in a torrent now. Thoughts of an uncertain future. Thoughts of the past, of how he got to this sorry point. Thoughts of Dettlaff -- he stopped himself firmly.

_No. Not now. Not when it's so beautiful out, and when I have company such as this._

Geralt saw Regis shake his head, as though trying to dislodge something.

"You alright?"

Regis looked up, startled. 

"Yes. Just... thinking about what I'll do next."

"I thought you said Nilfgaard?"

"I did. But Nilfgaard is an entire empire, of which I have experienced very little. Do you have any recommendations?"

"Huh. Don’t actually know that much about the south. 'Course, there's Vizima. And Gemmera - not big fans of witchers there, though I can't say how they feel about vampires. Vicovaro, maybe? Medical college might interest you."

"Medical college, eh? That does sound enticing," Regis mused. "Cahir was from Vicovaro, was he not? I'm afraid that's all I really know of the place, apart from that rather rude drinking song."

"Ha, yeah. _Once was a maid from Vicovaro, tight at night, she'd be loose come 'morrow..."_

"Ugh. Utterly crass."

"You brought it up!"

"That I did," Regis acknowledged with a grimace. "But all the same, it's utter codswallop. I can't imagine that whoever wrote it had much experience with women at all. Certainly didn't know how to romance them."

"Ahh, come off it. Not all women want romance. Some just want a laugh and a good plough."

Regis inclined his head. "You are correct, of course. Though such women do seem to be in the minority. Or perhaps most women are simply not as open with their desires. Understandably so, if that's the case."

"Whaddaya mean?" Geralt's head buzzed pleasantly from the liquor.

"Well, there certainly seems to be more of a stigma connected to women having casual flings, doesn't there?" Regis said. "Even among those who have access to the modern abundance of medicines and magics that can safeguard against any... inconvenient responsibilities. Regardless of what they get up to in private, there is certainly not nearly as much acceptance in the public sphere for promiscuous ladies, compared to their male counterparts. Just look at the dearth of female-oriented brothels on the market." 

"Huh. You've got a point there," Geralt admitted, sitting back. "There's gotta be one somewhere though, right? Brothel full of man-whores?"

"Hmm." Regis looked up thoughtfully. "Actually, I did hear of one recently. A brothel staffed primarily by men, that is. Overheard at that fête at Orianna's. But from what I could gather, this particular establishment's primary clientele aren't actually women. It's apparently quite popular among…" Regis cast a sidelong glance at Geralt. "Well, among men who prefer the company of other men." 

"It's supposed to be a top-quality institution," he continued hurriedly, "According to the young artist who was raving about it. 'Innovative,' he called it. 'Not to be missed.' Not that you would necessarily be interested in that particular type of diversion."

Geralt shrugged. "I don't know. Might be worth a visit, if they're really that good."

Regis's eyebrows shot up. _"_ _Really?_ I didn't know you went in for that sort of thing."

"What? I've been around," Geralt said defensively. "Not to any swanky high-end man-brothels, but still. Shagged a few men in my time."

"No offense meant, my friend. I must admit, what with Northern mores… I hadn't suspected… Though I supposed you've never really given a fig for societal expectations." Regis looked fascinated. He leaned forward, chin in hand. 

Geralt side-eyed him. "What?"

"When…" Regis hesitated. "No, I'm sorry, that is not my business."

Geralt rolled his eyes. "What is it, Regis?"

"I must say, I am _curious._ Though of course I understand if you would rather not share. It is an extremely personal question, and I wouldn’t dare to assume -"

_"Out with it_ , you old bat. What do you want to know?"

"Who was your first? Man, that is?"

Geralt blew out a breath, looking thoughtful.

"Depends on what you mean, I guess. First fuck? Pretty lad in a Cintrian brothel. Hell of a lay, and he played a mean hand of Gwent, too. Hustled me out of three times what I paid for his time." He grinned at the memory.

"But, first.. ah… friendly hand under the sheets? That was Eskel." Geralt glanced up. Regis was watching him, face inscrutable.

"We were young, on the Path for the first time. Got kicked out of a whorehouse one night when they realized what we were, so we set up camp outside of town and… things happened." Geralt shrugged. "Don't talk about it much, but it's happened a few times. Sort of an arrangement we have, if we're on the road together."

A pause. Geralt swirled his cup. 

"You know," he said carefully, glancing over at Regis. It might have been an afterthought, but for how deliberately he chose his words. "It helps. Having some degree of… intimacy, while on the Path. Keeps you sane, when your days are filled with monsters."

There was another pause, longer this time. Then: 

"I suppose this, ah. Arrangement of yours," Regis said suddenly. "It ended when you found Yennefer?"

The witcher barked a laugh, startlingly loud in the flickering firelight. Regis looked at him quizzically.

"Yen doesn't care who I fuck," Geralt chuckled. The vampire raised an eyebrow.

Geralt mulled over his cup of mandrake hooch, grin fading slightly. "Well," he amended, "She doesn't care, s'long as it's not Triss." He looked up at Regis, then back at the fire.

"Seriously. Yen doesn't mind what I do, _who_ I do. Just so long as no one - eclipses her. And so long as neither of us is taken advantage of." Geralt took a gulp. The liquor burned pleasantly going down.

"I feel the same way she does," he continued. "You know how we live. I'm on the Path for half a year. She's in court, or doing research. At our age? I'm not going to force her into chastity for months at a time. I don't have that kind of power, and I wouldn't want it if I did."

The corner of Geralt’s mouth quirked up slyly.

"And let me tell you, it makes for some interesting stories when we do meet back up."

Regis cleared his throat.

"Well, I… suppose I shouldn't be all that surprised. You are both modern denizens of the thirteenth century. Progressive, as far as humans go."

Geralt grunted in assent. Swirled his mug.

Regis shifted. All of a sudden, he found himself acutely aware of the crickets. Had they always been that loud? He looked over at Geralt, feeling strangely warm. The witcher was watching him. 

The air felt electric. Pregnant.

Regis drew breath to speak, just as Geralt opened his mouth:

_"I don't suppose -"_

_"Wanna have a go at it?"_

They stared at each other for an instant before Regis laughed, warm and genuine. Geralt grinned.

"Yes," Regis said finally, fangs flashing in a smile. "I think I would very much be interested in ‘having a go at it.'"

"Yeah… okay," Geralt said. He looked pleased as punch, Regis thought, as Geralt drained his mug and sat it down. 

"Gotta piss first though. I'll be back."

"Oh, lovely." Regis rolled his eyes as Geralt stood and tramped off into the dark underbrush.

In the silence, Regis turned his gaze upwards, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. The skies of Toussaint were exceptionally bright at night, a whirlwind of alien nebulas and piercing stars. He breathed, trying to quiet his racing mind. He found himself entranced by the colors above him, deep blues and cosmic teals, when he heard the crunch of Geralt's boots coming back towards camp. 

Regis looked down at the flames. 

_Well. This was an unexpected turn of events._

He had engaged in moonlight trysts before, of course. Had maintained relationships and affairs, courted vampires, solicited succubi. But even with his extraordinarily long lifespan, he suspected that Geralt's experience in this particular domain far outweighed his own.

When Geralt returned, he sat down next to Regis, their shoulders nearly touching. The witcher's white hair glowed cherry red in the firelight, misty blue where it reflected the night sky. At this angle, deep purple shadows were cast in the hollows of his face, obscuring his expression.

Geralt placed his hand gently on Regis's thigh.

Regis exhaled, and the witcher started moving his hand inwards and upwards. 

Slowly, hesitantly. Almost as if... _Really?_

"Geralt." Regis's eyes twinkled. "Are you _nervous?"_

Geralt sputtered, hand halting on Regis’s thigh. "What?! No, I -"

"Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, famed lover of Dandelion's ballads, is nervous about a quickie in the woods?"

Geralt narrowed his eyes as Regis snickered. 

"You know what?" Geralt said indignantly, though he couldn't stop the grin that was spreading across his face. "Yeah, I am nervous. I'm about to get it on with a vampire, I don't know how sex works for you. For all I know you could turn into a nightmare creature halfway through, slice me open with those fucking claws of yours -"

Regis, still chuckling, grasped Geralt by the back of the neck and kissed him sweetly. Geralt exhaled, surprised, before moving to return the kiss. His hand cradled Regis's jawline, thumb sweeping across his cheekbone. The kiss was gentle, persistent but not demanding. After several seconds, Regis pulled back. Geralt’s heart jumped.

The vampire's eyes were inhumanly black. Twin onyx pools, glinting redly in the firelight.

"Lust is not the same as bloodlust, witcher," Regis said, voice still amused, but lower. Rougher.

He reached up and, maintaining eye contact, pulled Geralt’s hand matter-of-factly between his thighs. Geralt lips parted as he felt the vampire’s growing hardness. He began rubbing slowly, and Regis let out a pleased hum.

"There are some similarities, I must admit," Regis continued softly. He leaned in, nosed at Geralt’s neck. "A sensitivity to _scent_ -" He inhaled deeply - "and _sensation_ -" He laid a kiss behind Geralt's ear. The witcher shivered. 

"A feeling akin to _hunger_ -" He sucked briefly at Geralt's earlobe, began kissing down his neck. "A craving - an _aching,_ that is not relieved except by the object of one's desire -"

Geralt muffled a moan as the vampire reached down and cupped him. Regis was grinning against his neck. Geralt tried to gather his thoughts.

"Why... your eyes?"

"An - mm -" Regis's breath was growing ragged as Geralt continued to stroke him. "An involuntary reaction to a heightened state of arousal." The vampire pulled back. His eyelids were heavy over glinting, unnatural blackness as he met Geralt’s gaze. "Much like the current dilation of your pupils."

Geralt surged forward. He met Regis with an open-mouthed kiss, messy, wet, tongue thrusting into the vampire's mouth. His hands tangled in Regis's hair as he ran the tip of his tongue over pointed teeth. He moaned into Regis's mouth, and Regis returned the kiss with equal fervor. _Was that a whimper?_

The tip of a fang caught on Geralt's lip when Regis pulled back. He rested his forehead against Geralt’s temple and looked down.

"As I was saying," Regis said roughly. "While there may be some... _superficial_ similarities between bloodlust and sexual desire -" He began to unbutton Geralt's fly - "There are also certain, essential differences. I do not, for instance, wish to tear open your throat and drink you dry. Nor do I wish to engage in the frankly _painful_ process of transforming into my more bestial form." 

"Mm. Pain and death? You really know how to sweet talk a guy," Geralt said breathlessly, sarcasm somewhat undermined by his obvious arousal. Regis chuckled as he reached into Geralt's trousers, drawing him out. Geralt groaned and fumbled to do the same for Regis.

"No," Regis continued, "Lust is not bloodlust." _(_ _How is he still talking? Geralt thought. He could feel himself leaking)._ "It is another urge all together. It -"

The vampire hissed as Geralt finally managed to get a fist around him.

"Very poetic," Geralt rasped, "but I would _really_ like to come right now."

He swung a leg over Regis's thighs, straddling his lap. Both men moaned as their cocks slid against each other, soft skin over hard muscle. Geralt spit into his hand and managed to grasp them both slickly, firmly, and started pumping them together.

Regis let out a choked sob and grabbed onto Geralt's shoulder. Claw-like nails dug into the witcher's skin, bright points of pain grounding him. Geralt leaned in close.

_"Come on, let go,"_ he murmured into Regis's ear. _"F_ _uck, I wanna see you come."_ He flicked his wrist, and Regis's hips involuntarily thrust upwards. The vampire cried out. 

"You - _oh -"_

_"That's it, Regis,"_ Geralt breathed, flicking his wrist again. _"L_ _et me watch you."_

"Geralt - aah!" Regis gasped as he came, thick spurts coating Geralt's hand and the front of Regis's tunic. 

Geralt groaned and leaned forward, hand and cock dripping, and jerked himself off furiously until he too climaxed, his spend mingling with Regis's on his now filthy hand.

He fell forward, panting, head on Regis’s shoulder. 

There they stayed for a long while, crackling embers and cricket-song slowly refilling the vacuum they had left in the night air. Geralt realized he was smiling, face pressed against Regis's quilted tunic. He could hear his friend's heartbeat gradually slowing.

Regis felt the cool breeze wash over him, the witcher's warm weight on his lap. His mind was empty for the first time in weeks. Months. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this calm.

Finally, Geralt pulled back and got a good look at the mess they had made. With a grimace he stood and rummaged through his pack for a water skin and a rag. He cleaned his hand, then, kneeling by Regis, he began to wipe gently at the front of the vampire's tunic.

"Mm, that was _lovely,_ " Regis said finally, smiling as he opened his eyes. They had reverted back to normal: dark irises, bloodshot sclera. "You're quite good at that."

" _I'm…?"_ Geralt shook his head in disbelief. "Regis. Fuck. No wonder that succubus liked you so much." 

Regis just chuckled.

Once he had cleaned the worst of the mess, Geralt flopped back down beside Regis. They sat for a time in companionable silence, watching the dying fire.

Regis felt content. At first. 

Then the thoughts returned. The rumination. Worries for the future, memories of the past. Memories of Dettlaff. Of what he had done to Dettlaff.

Geralt saw Regis shake his head again, much as he had done earlier in the night. A quick jerk, as though a mosquito were buzzing by his ear.

"Regis, are you sure you're alright?" Geralt asked, concerned.

"Yes, Geralt. I'm fine. I…"

Regis stopped, swallowed. He stood slowly, as though with great effort, and walked to the edge of the rise.

Geralt sat up, brow furrowed. The Sansretour below them was magnificent in the moonlight, but Regis was looking down at his hands.

"Actually, I'm not fine," Regis said lowly. "I apologize for dampening the mood, Geralt. This is not a reflection on you, or our friendship, or the wonderful sex in which we just engaged. It's just that… It is simply..." He hesitated, searching for the right words.

Finally, carefully: "I seem to still be in the process of grieving," he said.

Geralt's heart broke a bit, then. 

Geralt had cared little for Dettlaff. Any sympathy he might have felt for the manipulated, abused vampire had evaporated when he sicced monsters on Beauclair. When he tried to kill Syanna in cold blood. When he tried to kill Regis. 

But before this whole mess began, Dettlaff had brought Regis back to life. He'd nursed him back to health at his own expense. They had been blood brothers, a bond that Geralt could never hope to fully understand.

Regis had forfeited all of that. And even more - in destroying Dettlaff, Regis had lost his people, his community. A tribe aeons old, forever turned against him for betraying his own.

So much lost in an instant.

Regis stood stock still, silhouetted against the Toussaint night. Geralt had underestimated how much killing Detlaff had hurt his friend, and he felt shame, deep in his gut. He should have recognized the pain of loss. Had felt it for Vesemir, for Crach, for far too many. Had felt it for Regis, all those years ago.

Geralt stood and stepped towards Regis.

"Geralt, what -"

He hugged the vampire tightly, held him until Regis melted into his arms and returned the embrace. 

Regis did not cry, not then. The tears would come later, on the road to Nilfgaard, when he set up camp and found himself truly alone for the first time since his regeneration.

For now, he simply held Geralt tightly, and gave a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity or demon had deigned to grant him such a friend.


End file.
